Winner of Willy
by pralinkova princezna
Summary: One man, one factory, one contest. Five golden tickets for five women. Wonka wants his own heir.
1. Announcement

_**Winner of Willy**_

This text grew from the idea "If Wonka wants an heir, why couldn't he have his own?" All he needs is a wife... But we know Wonka. He has a special means how to find the perfect bride.

9 chapters to await

All characters are fictional and any resemblance to real persons or places is absolutely intentional. No offence. :o)

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**1 Announcement**

It was a cold rainy day and Cheryl Rosebay was returning home from work in a miserable mood. People were unpleasant to her today because there was a breakdown on the library computer. Everybody was in a great hurry. Cheryl took care of the lendings and returns of books and at her counter a long queue formed. People don't like standing in queues, of course. She had to watch a display of annoyed and resentful faces and she had no idea that in a few weeks she will have to face spite from a much more dangerous proximity. To make her day more pleasant, she went to a shop to buy a candy; she used to do so from time to time.

The shop on the corner was packed with people, which was odd. Everybody went for chocolate like it was the last in the world. Cheryl glanced around the place and noticed a placard at the main door. She read this announcement:

Dear people of the world!

I, Willy Wonka, made an important decision this year: I want to find myself a wife and start a family with her. Because of that I want to invite five women (up to 35 years) to my factory. I am going to show them the factory and be their guide so we get to know each other. I have hidden five golden tickets under the wrappers of five ordinary chocolate bars. These tickets ensure admittance to the factory for the holders and also their right to compete for my favour.

One of them will eventually become my wife, if both sides agree. The four others will receive a lifetime supply of chocolate and candies. The tickets can be found under the wrapper of any Wonka bar in any town in any country of the world.

Under the text there was a coloured photo of Willy Wonka, a known-unknown maker of chocolate. He was well known because his chocolate was world-wide famous, and the trademark Wonka was very popular. He was unknown though, for Willy Wonka himself hasn't been seen for fifteen years by anybody. He stayed locked away in his factory and nobody ever went in nor out. All workers were dismissed long time ago because of spies stealing recipes from him. All of a sudden the factory was back on track after several years, and it seemed as by itself. It was a great mystery, both the factory and Mr Wonka too. He seemed to be about forty, quite good-looking, with a nice smile, but a bit strange. Cheryl looked at him and then she looked around the shop, which was very busy. She noticed most of the buyers were women. The shop-assistant has perhaps never been so busy; she was sweating as she was running between the store and the counter. Cheryl just smiled and decided to buy a bar too, just for fun, and stood in the queue. It was slow but ladies spent the time staring at Wonka's photo. Cheryl had an idea that she could put up something similar in the library. The readers may behave more pleasantly then. They might even forget that they are in a hurry. When it was Cheryl's turn, the shop just ran out of chocolate bars. She bought some biscuits then and tried to get out of the sudden huddle, as everybody struggled out. What a hunt, she thought; this Wonka guy isn't so pretty so everybody must go that crazy. Then she remembered the lifetime supply of sweets. Anyway, it is a funny way of looking for a bride.

Evening TV news brought information about the Wonka contest and also the first found ticket. The lucky finder's name was Bea Grammos and she was from Athenes. If Wonka was watching TV, he was surely tearing his hair out. Bea was a prototype of a fat Greek pig. She goggled at the journalists who came for an interview to her house and with a temperament so typical of her she shouted out something about a life chance and hugged all members of the big family. The journalists were flooding her with questions.

"Could you tell us how you found the ticket?"

"Of course. I bought chocolates for my whole family. We love it, this Wonka's, in fact we don't buy any other," she grinned at her relatives. "I came home and took one – and there it was! I'm so happy!" cried the fat Greek woman.

"Do you like Willy Wonka?" said a journalist.

"Yes, he looks very smart," said Bea. "Only a pity that he is not Greek!" A choir of family voices supported Miss Grammos's speech and other questions almost got lost in the noise but one was audible:

"Do you think you are his type?" There was a silence in a moment. Bea blinked and with something she considered a tempting smile she said, "I hope so."

Cheryl switched to a different channel.

Willy Wonka switched the TV off and went to have a cold shower.

The world suddenly went mad. Both television and press did their best to find out any information about Wonka and his factory and when they didn't succeed they made something up. Poolrooms anticipated good earnings and shops were bursting with females who thought themselves to be prettier than Bea Grammos. Newspapers published some photos of Willy Wonka but the placards from the town disappeared as well. Fans took them as trophies.

On the third day from starting the contest another golden ticket was found. A lady named Celia Clark discovered it in a chocolate she bought on her way to work. She was a sales agent for Avon in Montreal. For the purpose of informing the public, she summoned a news conference, because she hated undisciplined crowds.

"I found the ticket this morning when I was having a snack. I am fond of chocolate because it helps me to soothe my nerves and I experience quite a lot of stress in my job. These days we lead such a hasty way of life. I only hope that the company will get along without me for one day; what can be done. Such an event happens only once in life and I am certainly not going to forego an opportunity to meet a person so important and respectable like Willy Wonka."

"How do you look at the possibility of being chosen by Willy Wonka as his wife?" asked one of the journalists.

"I would be very glad of course," said Celia stiffly. "I am single now. Although, as for a marriage, one needs to be cautious. I was married once and I know what I am talking about. Some men are quite problematic and life without them is easier. I only hope it doesn't apply to Mr Wonka too."

"What impact would the possible marriage to Wonka have to your company?"

"We must assume there will be a marriage first," said Celia orderly. "Considering that he owns a chocolate factory and I have a cosmetics company, we wouldn't compete with each other. I am sure to continue in my work, so I don't expect any drastic changes. Mr Wonka is certainly a commonsensible person who will understand such a situation." Celia smiled and considered the interview finished. Not the journalists.

"You are divorced. What was the matter with your ex-husband?"

"What is your idea of a harmonious life?"

"What is your attitude to the concept 'head of the family'?"

Celia answered none of these; she rose from her seat and said, "I am very sorry but I have to return to my work now. Goodbye." She smiled again and left.

If it goes on this way, I will soon feel sorry for Wonka," said Matt Rosebay and turned the TV volume down. He took a bite in a pizza that mum has just brought and put on the table.

"Enjoy," said mother. The Rosebays were having dinner together.

"First that Greek and now such a sober manager," said Matt. "I could hardly understand what she was talking about."

"There are still three more tickets left," said Cheryl. "Maybe he'll find a nice girl too."

"Would you want one, Cheryl?" asked her sister Amy with a laugh.

"True, it's about time you get married," joined Matt. Cheryl was the oldest of the three children but the only single. Amy was going to get married and Matt was dating a classmate.

"Wonka's an ideal catch," said Matt. "I'll get you a bar right tomorrow."

"Stop making fun of me," said Cheryl but she was cheerful. It was always this way; the siblings forever teased each other but never with malice. The Rosebays were a happy and easy-going family, which occurs not very often.


	2. A Weird Prophecy

**2 A Weird Prophecy**

After the finding of the second ticket the world became even madder. For a week nobody spoke about almost anything else. People (mainly females) talked about the event to complete strangers in public transport and waiting rooms and tried to guess who the next finder will be and what she will be like. Men suffered this fuss, though pretending that they didn't care about it at all; but still felt alert when their wives, girlfriends and daughters wished to own one of those tickets. "It's not Wonka," women lied bravely, "but the candy!" and men believed them every word for this was what they secretly wanted to hear. There were only a few cases of divorcing and bodily harm but really only a few. The event had its fans as well as its opposers and because many things still stayed hidden, everybody made up their own theory which was perfectly right. In pubs there still ruled mainly the spirit of football and politics. "Give me a rest with that competition", "I don't care at all" and "I have other things to think about than some tickets" – these were frequent male reactions. But they might have concealed only envy.

Matt really kept his word. He came to Cheryl and handed her the chocolate, saying, "Here is your future."

"Thanks," said Cheryl and tore off the wrapper. She peered at the plain bar of chocolate. "My inner eye can see my future is only bare and empty," she said dramatically. Matt looked a bit disappointed. "Oh, sorry. Bad luck."

"It's OK, bro, didn't you expect anything to be there?" she asked. "Anyway, thanks for the chocolate. Here," she snapped it into two pieces and handed him one. He took it, nodded and hurried out because there was a friend waiting for him.

Next day when Cheryl went to work, she took a different route because she had to go to the post office. Crossing the road, she noticed one of the information posters which by some chance escaped the Wonka fans' attention. Cheryl hesitated for a while, but then she took it with her. In the library she stuck it to the wall so the readers are able to see it but nobody can take it away. The results came very soon.

"Do you sell it here?" asked the first comer, a sixteen-year-old girl. "My friend has got it and I can't get it anywhere. There are no more in the city." Smiling, Cheryl set her right and took books from her.

"This Wonka guy is everywhere," murmured a middle-aged man.

"Good thing," beamed a lady right behind him in the queue and gazed at the photo. The man shook his head and looked glumly on the ground. Cheryl thought that there should be a Pamela Anderson poster next to Wonka's.

Cheryl's colleagues welcomed the image (some with open envy); her boss, though, had a different opinion. "We are not a confectionery," he objected. Cheryl told him that only the presence of the poster has a positive impact on the readers and thus improves atmosphere of the working place. It is also possible that they will have more visitors because it attracts attention these days. Her colleagues supported her. The boss said it is her problem but in case of complaints he knows who will take the responsibility. Cheryl took it, but didn't understand much. Why should it matter to anyone?

On Wednesday afternoon Amy, Cheryl and their friend Deborah were sitting in "Grenadin", their favourite confectionery, and talked over Amy's wedding. Deborah was to become Amy's witness because she was a Rosebays' family friend since their childhood.

"The dress will be light violet with silver trimming," said the bride-to-be with pride. "It looks lovely, in two weeks it will be ready. You must come and have a look."

"Sure," agreed Deborah. "Will Rick be in violet too?"

"No, he's going to have a black tail-coat"

"Very festive," appreciated Deborah. "How many people will be there?"

"Just a few," replied Amy and started to count. "Me and Rick, mum, dad, Cheryl, Matt, Clarissa – Matt wouldn't do without her –, you, Henry, Uncle Tony with his family, Uncle Gene and Aunt Paula, Wally, Fiona, Leslie... who did I forget? Well, of course, Rick's family and friends."

"A few people you say?"

"About fifty or so."

"It's not a small number." Deborah took a sip of her cocktail. "And when are you going to get married, Cheryl?"

"Dunno, I don't think about it."

"You have nobody to marry, right?"

"She will marry when she finds the golden ticket," Amy laughed.

Deborah suddenly sprang up. "Excuse me," she spoke to a lady who was just buying a Wonka bar at the counter. "I'm doing a survey. Why are you buying this bar?"

The lady looked bewildered. "Because I like the nutty one most of all."

"Why this particular brand?"

"It's the best of course," replied the lady like there was nothing plainer and was about to leave.

"So not because of the competition?" Deborah wanted to know.

"No. I'm not interested in that. Goodbye."

Deborah went back to the table. She acted like this now and then but that belonged to her journalist job. "I will have a word with a few more," she said and made a note to her notebook. "We have a busy time in the office. If it wasn't for the Wonka contest, we'd probably have a dead season. May I ask you too, ladies?"

"About what?" said Amy.

"Why do you buy Wonka's chocolate?"

"We don't," said Cheryl, perplexed.

"Don't you tell me that you haven't bought any since the beginning of the contest," asked Deborah.

"You know - I haven't," said Cheryl thoughtfully.

"One of my colleagues buys them every day, she's got a thing for Wonka," continued Deborah. Both friends nodded. "Her husband is going mad of it."

"You should write about this, Debbie," Cheryl suggested. "The title could be, 'Wonka's unfortunate idea strikes our society's family life' – no, that is too long."

"Okay," said Deborah but dashed to the counter where she had seen another victim.

Deborah offered to see both sisters home. Walking past a station, they heard a voice, "Girls, girlies, please!" It was an elderly gipsy woman. "Got any change?"

"Sorry," Amy shrugged and tried to get away. She was afraid of this kind of people.

"I will tell you your fortune, do you want to know your future?" smiled the gipsy. Deborah, to a great surprise to the sisters agreed. "Ok, why not?" She held out her hand. The woman grinned, looked in her palm and said, "Don't toy too much, girlie, someone will be after you. But you can get away if you are cautious."

"Don't you want to be more specific?" said Deborah calmly. The woman shook her head.

"Can't see anything more there. And what about you, dear?" she grabbed Amy by the hand. Amy shuddered, but stood still. "You're ruining your luck," mumbled the gipsy and without further comments looked in Cheryl's hand. She gazed for a while and then burst into laughter.

"What is it?" demanded Cheryl.

"Someone will hate you greatly," she told her the cruel truth. Cheryl made a face at Deborah.

"Won't you tell me who, will you?" she tried but the gipsy chuckled, just shrugged and made her way off.

"That's really funny," said Cheryl, open-mouthed. "I wonder you have the nerve for it, Debbie. She's an old liar."

"Rather a good psychologist," Deborah corrected her. "She can estimate people, then she tells some nonsense and everybody can find themselves in there. Look at me – it quite fits; journalists like me are always halfway into trouble."

"What does it mean? Ruining my luck..." pondered Amy. "Is it related to Rick somehow?"

"My goodness," Cheryl shook with her. "You won't believe her. She just made a guess and now you would fret over it? Isn't it silly? Say, who can hate me greatly?"

"That's true, everybody likes you," said Amy but for the rest of the way she was silent.


	3. Don’t Tease a Snake Barefoot

**3 Don't Tease a Snake Barefoot**

Several days passed and nothing special happened. Matt seemed to have the desire to bundle Cheryl away from the house because he bought her another chocolate bar – for birthday, he said, which was accidentally in a quarter year's time. Of course there was no ticket in it either. The press came with a lot of information about the first two winners, but hardly anything about Wonka himself. Most of it was speculations and rumours. When the media seemed to fable, salvation came in the form of a third finder of a golden ticket. Her name was Tara Norden.

"Please tell us something about you," asked the journalists who crammed into a pitifully tiny flat on the Amsterdam suburb.

"Well," said Tara and drew her hair aside. "I am a gym teacher and I organize free-time activities for children, mainly trips and tours, you know, I love sport. I used to go to the mountains with my husband but he died five years ago. He fell off a rock. I have only Erik now," she patted her ten years old son. "We live quite happily but he misses his dad."

"How did you get the ticket?"

"It was Erik's work," Tara smiled. "Yesterday he bought a chocolate bar with the ticket and gave it to me. He'd love to have a new father. Now we may be lucky.

"What do you think about Willy Wonka?"

"It is an unknown person to me, I don't know. He looks fine but I don't dare to guess his nature."

"What if he chose right you?" It was another question given to all of them. Tara smiled and shook her head.

"That's too soon to ask now. We'll wait and see, also what Erik will say."

"How about having Mr Wonka as a dad?" a reporter asked Erik who was apparently bored and would prefer to go out and play football.

"I dunno," he said. "But I would like to see the factory."

"I am afraid that the admittance is allowed only to Erik's mother, so he has to hope Mr Wonka will choose right her. Then the factory will surely be like their home. Anita Lekker, Duna television," said the reporter.

Willy Wonka thought that the tickets maybe wasn't a good idea after all.

"Storm is a moron," said Cheryl to Amy after returning from work. A meddler appeared and pointed out the fact the Wonka poster is there, and said it troubled him. The boss came fuming with anger and accused Cheryl of disturbing the work discipline; he said that she knew he wished it to be removed. She did her best to explain it to him, but in vain. She was forced to remove the poster, though she didn't approve of that. Such a fuss about a piece of paper. For a few days Cheryl tried not to meet her boss, if she could. She noticed the readers (mostly females) began asking where they put it, why it is gone etc.

"The management wishes it not to be here," Cheryl answered, smiling.

"What a pity," was the usual reaction. "Why do they mind?"

"I don't know," said Cheryl mechanically and retrieved codes from the books. They are right, she thought. I will say it is my private decoration and I can let Storm natter. When the last reader left, she took some sellotape and fixed the poster to the wall again. Anything to make our readers happier.

Four days passed and it happened.

"What did I tell you?" roared the boss and waved with a written complaint before Cheryl's eyes. "I've warned you and it is here. The readers are displeased. They have a feeling we sell the chocolate here or what." Cheryl stood in front of a superb oak table in Storm's office, where she had been invited, and really couldn't believe her ears. Isn't it a bit overdone?

"If I made a mistake, I am sorry," she said calmly.

"You won't provoke me much longer," said Storm in a dangerous voice. "You are doing damage to the name of our library."

"May I say something? I think it is unnecessarily..." she began but the boss interrupted her.

"What you think is not significant. You heard; I will not tolerate this here."

"All right, I will not do it again."

"Too right; you won't," said Storm. "Tomorrow you don't have to bother to come. You are fired."

Cheryl stood silent with her mouth open.

When she came home, Matt, Amy and Deborah were watching a TV competition and had a great time. She had no idea how she would tell them.

"Hey look, Cheryl's here," exclaimed Deborah who noticed her first. "Come and watch, we're playing who guesses more and Matt's winning."

"Try to guess what happened to me," said Cheryl. "But you won't hit it." She said it with such an odd voice so that all of them stopped watching TV.

"Someone asked you out for a dinner," Deborah made her guess. Cheryl shook her head.

"You found a golden ticket!" shouted Matt. "No? Oh... and what is it, then?"

Cheryl sat down in an armchair and slinged her legs over the elbow. "I was fired."

"You don't say!" said Amy, appalled.

"And guess why? I told you once before." Amy thought for a while.

"Because of – no, this is silly... I don't know."

"Yes, you're right – it's silly. It was for the Wonka poster. It annoyed him. I put it up again because people were excited about it and they behaved better. It was proved." Nobody spoke a word for a while.

"You must be kidding," said Deborah but it was clear to her that Cheryl is not joking.

"It's unfair" said Matt. "I hope you've told him?"

"Course I have. But you think he listened to me? He told me not to take personal things to work and hang it up above my bed instead. It was purposely, I think he was just looking for an excuse how to get rid of me."

"What did you do to him he hates you so much?" Cheryl shrugged. She was down because she loved her work. "I really have no idea."

"Wait, I'll be back in a minute," said Amy and ran away.

"Storm got a written complaint from a reader."

"Did he?" said Deborah. "What was in it?"

"I don't know; he didn't show me."

"That's a bit strange," Deborah scratched her chin. "You should have wanted to see it. It may have been a fake, not a real complaint." Cheryl put her legs down and leaned forward. "You think if we poked into it, the dismissal could be invalid?"

"Maybe we could find something," her friend nodded.

"But what does he have against you?" Matt still didn't understand.

"Maybe he didn't like my new shoelaces," said Cheryl airily. "Storm is a swine, he would do with anything."

Deborah looked thoughtful. "Did you say Storm? Do you know where his wife works?"

"No, why?"

"A colleague of mine is called Storm," said Debbie with a smile. "I've told you already about her, she's the one who buys the chocolate constantly and rhapsodizes about Wonka." Oh, so this may be it, thought Cheryl. The husband probably knows otherwise he wouldn't go berserk every time he sees a Wonka picture. "Debbie, you are ingenious! That may be it!"

"But it could be only a namesake."

"Could be."

Amy just got back and put a Wonka chocolate bar in Cheryl's hand. "Here, to repair your nerves. Everything will be fine again."

"Thanks," said Cheryl. "We'll share it. Listen, what we discovered," she began to paint Deborah's hot shot revelation when something golden fell into her lap from underneath the wrapper. She stopped in the middle of a word and stared at the thing. "My god, it is a golden ticket!" She lifted it and held it in front of her eyes. All of them were dumbfounded, only Matt jumped two metres high in the air. "Yes, yes, YES!" he exclaimed. "I knew you'd find it, Cheryl!"

Funeral mood changed rapidly into a hilarious glee. "Maybe I will marry after all. Anyway, I definitely don't have to buy any chocolate till the end of my life," said Cheryl. "You had a lucky hand, Amy."

"Yeah, I did," Amy forced out, just when the parents came home and wanted to know what happened. Amy edged away to her room and didn't show up until next morning.


	4. Truth Will Come Out

**4 Truth Will Come Out**

Deborah wanted to be the first to inform the world about the finding of the fourth ticket, so she besought everyone not to talk about it anywhere; they promised. The other day, when she didn't have to go to work anyway, Cheryl visited Debbie in the editor's office for she promised her an interview. She was happy that it will be her best friend who will write about her; she could be quite sure Debbie will not make up any lies. She also hoped to meet Mrs Storm. They headed to her office first.

"Good morning, Madeleine," greeted Deborah. "This is my friend Cheryl; she wishes to talk to you. But first I want to ask where your husband works." Mrs Storm looked a bit bewildered. "He's the head of the city library," she said. "Why do you want to know that?"

"I think truth will come out soon," Deborah winked at Cheryl. "I'll wait for you outside," she added and disappeared.

"Sit down, please. What do you need?" asked Mrs Storm.

"My name is Cheryl Rosebay, is it known to you?" Mrs Storm shook her head.

"I know that you inquire into the Wonka's ticket contest," she looked round Mrs Storm's office which was stuffed with photos of Wonka, the first three winners and even more newspaper clippings.

"Oh yes, it is my job," said Mrs Storm, pleased.

"I am very interested in Willy Wonka," said Cheryl. "I can see you have the poster too," she pointed at the familiar picture. "Please, tell me what Mr Wonka is like."

"You can read it anywhere in the press, why should I repeat it to you now?" said Mrs Storm with a sign of distrust.

"It's because I have a very good reason to know everything," said Cheryl and pulled the golden ticket out of her handbag.

"My goodness, it's Wonka's golden ticket!" gasped the journalist, covering her mouth with both hands.

"Do you know it's a bit due to your husband, too?"

"I don't understand how these are connected?" Mrs Storm wondered. Cheryl told her story in brief and added, "Please, tell him one thing – I will be most pleased to hang up the poster above my bed."

In no time a tumult started in the office. Cheryl suddenly found herself in the middle of cameras and microphones, bombarded with questions so she didn't know which to answer first. When she realized being a bit of a celebrity now she shuddered but the attention wasn't unpleasant either.

As soon as Deborah finished her article, she showed it to Cheryl. "Read, your future may depend on it." Cheryl dived into reading about her yesterday's dismissal because of Wonka.

"It's wonderful, Debbie, lovely," she beamed. "I am happy that you put it this way, like it really was; otherwise people could make a misinterpretation."

Deborah was content. "My pleasure. Let me just tell you something: the journalist's rule is 'Write what you want any way you want, but there will always be a misinterpretation.' People will regard you almost as a martyr and will support you."

"I wonder what happens with Storm."

"I'm not through with him yet," said Deborah darkly.

Cheryl spent her afternoon in the pleasant company of Mrs Storm, talking the case over and over. She also tried to find all information about the chocolate factory, chocolate and everything related. It was a very illuminating and enjoyable day.

After coming home Cheryl followed her ex-boss's advice and tacked the poster of Wonka above her bed. She sat down in a facing armchair, surveyed the picture and pondered over everything that happened that day. When she was telling Mrs Storm in the morning that she was interested in Wonka, she said it only to attract attention. Now it is different, but yesterday she was completely unconcerned about him. Or was she only trying to persuade herself, because she didn't count on finding any ticket, so in order not to be too disappointed? Well, it doesn't matter now. She is one of the five possible spouses and – when she overviewed the current state, she stood a good chance. It remains to be seen what the last one will be like.

She looked at the instructions on her golden ticket again – for the thirtieth time, it seemed – and it was only now she had time to think them over properly. All of them are requested to come to the factory front gates on Friday, 15th April at exactly ten o'clock a.m. The visit will take all day. Suddenly an idea struck her: They will be alone there. What if Wonka is a maniac who will attempt to murder them or abuse them in some way? He didn't look like one, though. Can a chocolatier be mad in any way at all? Surely he is clever when he managed to produce truly impossible things as never-melting ice-cream and chocolate birds hatching from sugar eggs. What will come next, though, will be a surprise, she thought when getting ready for bed. Anyway, she couldn't deny she was looking forward to him.

A few days later Cheryl and Deborah were sitting together in their favourite confectionery, enjoying some cakes. They had a reason to celebrate. When Deborah poked a little into the top spheres of the city library, only dust and decay came out. The letter was a fake of course; jealous Storm had it written by an influential acquaintance that he could be afraid of, for effect, but actually they played squash together. Deborah scraped acquaintance with them and pretended to have interest in them so they invited her for a drink. She managed to get them drunk and made them tell everything she needed. The speech was recorded on a miniature but powerful dictaphone in her handbag. Drunken men made a pass at Deborah and she had a hard time backing out of it. Luckily the dictaphone recorded the subsequent mafioso threats and both bigwigs were put into detention. Cheryl of course got her job back.

"You are excellent, Deb," said Cheryl. "Listen, lady Sherlock, wouldn't you like to dog out what's wrong with Amy too? She's been edgy lately and frowns all the time."

"It may be the nerves before the wedding," said Deborah. "According to statistics wedding is one on the most frequent causes of stress."

"Spit upon statistics. There's something wrong with Amy. She used to be nice but now she barely talks to me. Try to talk to her, she may tell you something."

"All right," said Deborah.

"See, talk of the devil..." Cheryl saw her sister's face through the confectionery's door glass. "Hi, come here," she waved at her. Amy glanced around, alert, and it seemed that she would disappear again when Deborah waved at her too. Amy then joined them hesitatingly.

"Hello, Amy," Debbie greeted her cheerfully. "How's it going?" Amy just waved her hand and ordered a cherry liqueur. As soon as it was brought, she drank it bottoms up and ordered another.

"Slow down, girl, or we will draw you home," Cheryl warned her.

"You are not my nanny," murmured Amy, watching the table desk. "What did you want?"

"We're just chatting like in the old days," said Deborah. "I was wondering how Rick was." Amy gave her a dark look.

"Well, if we must speak about that... Rick is surely fine."

"Let it out," said Deborah calmly.

"He left for his grandma," said Amy after a while. "But he promised he'd take me boating at the weekend. That is for the third time this month. We settle for something and he always finds an excuse so he doesn't have to be with me."

"What are you talking about?" Cheryl frightened. Amy gave her such a spiteful look that Cheryl better went silent. Deborah noticed the strange behaviour. It was clear it was on her now.

"Look, Amy," she spoke calmly. "Rick is a very busy man; he has a firm and a family to take care of. And why? Because he wants to make his future family safe, a family he wants to have with you, Amy. Visiting his grandma only proves his concern."

Amy drank the second liqueur bottoms up and barely audibly she said, "I think he is cheating me."

"Where did you get that?" Cheryl wondered. "And can you tell me at last why you are mean to me when it's Rick who's vexing you?" she couldn't forbear, when Amy cast her another look of a mass murderer.

"Calm down, girls," said Deborah and ordered Amy a chocolate cake. "This is on me. Eat up; it will do good to your nerves." Amy all of a sudden started to cry.

"It's been here already," she howled. Cheryl and Debbie exchanged uncomprehending looks. "Sorry, Cheryl, it's not your fault... but I can't get it out of my head," Amy wailed. "Everything went so complicated suddenly... the woman was right, I'm ruining my luck wherever I go."

"Don't you have that old hag in mind?" Cheryl remembered. "No, Amy. If she spoiled your life like this, I will go and strangle her."

"You are so good, Cheryl," cried Amy. "But... but when I think that I was actually holding the ticket in my hands..."

"What?" both of them exclaimed and you could practically see little wheels turning inside their heads as they were thinking.

"Wow, Amy, I had no idea..." Cheryl realized it first.

"I was longing to find the ticket," Amy continued. "I had Rick though – and if it was me who had unwrapped the chocolate -"

"What then?" said Deborah. "You'd jilt Rick and joined the lottery? Or would you give the ticket to Cheryl anyway?"

"I dunno," sighed Amy.

"You wouldn't buy that chocolate at first," Cheryl tried to comfort her.

"It was bought already. I bought loads of them; I didn't manage to unwrap those I bought that afternoon because Debbie came and then you... I thought if I gave you one nothing would happen... but it did."

"So this ticket is yours in fact," Cheryl hold her head.

"It doesn't matter, the whole world knows about you and Willy Wonka perhaps does too," Amy started to cry again. She was right of course. While three downhearted ladies proceeded through the night from the bar home, half carrying the middle one, Willy Wonka smiled from his dream. For the few past days he was able to sleep calmly again.

The best was to come, though.


	5. Who’s the Fairest of Them All?

**5 Who's the Fairest of Them All?**

The Rosebays watched TV carefully in order to learn who will be the last Cheryl's rival. Two days later a newsreader in the main news informed: "Today the last golden ticket of Wonka's chocolate contest was found."

"It's here," said Matt.

"The owner is a twenty-seven years old American, Dawn Fidget." Cheryl watched a charming blonde creation on TV and both her jaw and her self-confidence dropped.

"You also bought a Wonka bar, didn't you?" asked the journalists.

"No, it wasn't me," said Dawn Fidget in a jingly voice. "A friend gave it to me, she is already married, you know."

"Why to you, what do you think?"

"I'm the best one that Willy Wonka can wish," said Dawn with a shiny smile. "In all aspects."

"What is your job?"

"I'm a nurse and I work here in Chicago hospital. I love my work but I would easily replace it with something such wonderful as a chocolate factory! I love chocolate! You know, I think a person who loves chocolate can't be bad," said Dawn and answered a question beforehand. "Tell me, don't you think Willy Wonka is sweet?" she giggled.

"I'm feeling sick," said Cheryl.

"She's a goose," said Matt.

"What interests you most about Willy Wonka?"

"Three guesses what," said Amy.

Dawn poked her hair, wriggled her hips and said: "I'd like to know what he's like; you see, we know practically nothing about him but I guess he is an extremely charming man who is a pleasure to be with."

"As far as I know, you have a boyfriend," a journalist said.

"Oh yeah," admitted Dawn, "but I will give precedence to Willy Wonka of course."

Mum turned the volume down. "So there we are. You are the best of all of them, Cheryl," she tried to encourage her daughter who half lay in the armchair, hopeless. "You are young, single, clever and good; you have a charm and Wonka already knows your story." Cheryl grinned happily at the praise.

"Sure, you are an absolute number one," said Matt. "This Dawn is a dish but else dim. If Wonka doesn't think with anything else than his brain, you could succeed."

Cheryl laughed. "Nobody knows actually, I don't know him."

"Listen, dear, if he doesn't pick you, he isn't worth it anyway," said dad. "Just look at the others!"

"Imagine how Bea must feel," Amy made a face.

"You're right," agreed Cheryl and went to bed much less worried.

Day D was approaching and in five countries of the world five crowds of mummies, aunties, grannies, friends, sisters and unwanted advisers cudgelled their brains how to make the future bride as attractive as possible. Everybody agreed that marrying Wonka is an unbelievably big deal, though they almost didn't know what they were talking about. At Rosebays' there was a council and Deborah took part too. Everybody had their own idea and Cheryl's head started to ache of the disputes. Nothing like that appeared with preparing Amy's wedding.

"But this is a different case," said Amy, who, since she's apologized to Cheryl, became as active as it was her own wedding. "Here you must excel in a short time among four others. You must catch attention. You must be incomparable, charming, sweet, perfect..."

"You must be different," Deborah said concisely. "The solution will appear by itself. Let's have a look at the material we already have: Bea Grammos. She can do her best but she won't be any prettier. She's no match for you so don't worry."

"Then there's the manager, Celia," counted Cheryl.

"She will be immensely elegant so you must look..."

"... like you've just crawled out of a mow," laughed Matt.

"Silence there," said Amy. "One more word and I will throw you out of the window. Don't forget, Matt, we women are in advantage." Deborah ignored the chaff.

"Tara Norden is a sporty type," she remembered. "And Dawn."

"She worries me most of all," sighed Cheryl.

"She's as cute as a kitten, but also as dumb. She will dress rather less than more."

"If at all," cackled Matt. Amy jumped after him and tried to push him out of the room. Matt resisted.

"Kids, go fight somewhere else," snapped Cheryl.

"You don't want to listen to me," yelled Matt. "A man's opinion could be crucial for you!

"You already had a chance to speak, hombre," said Amy, pointing her fingers on him like they were colts. "Now be silent forever!" The doorbell rang suddenly. "I'll open," said Matt and hurried away. "It'll be Clarissa. She may give you some good advice," he shouted to Cheryl. Amy threw a cushion after him.

"Get rid of this shrew for me," said Matt, pulling the visitor in. "Amy! Look who's here!" It was Rick. Amy stood in surprise. "I expected you come next week," she stammered out. Rick smiled at her and suggested a walk. Amy went, completely bewildered and apparently not wanting to leave the company. Though, she knew they had things to talk about.

"Now where were we?" said Cheryl.

"Sit down and listen," Deborah began her lecture. "First, be yourself and don't pretend anything. Emphasize your grace and all your good sides. You are a librarian, so you are close to the fantasy world. What else books are?" Cheryl nodded as listening to a heavenly song. "Newspaper, that's reality, mostly. But not books. Second, it's spring now. The big day is in half of April. You must resemble a fresh spring blossom, dewy morning and a song in the wind."

"I didn't know you can write poetry," smiled Cheryl.

"Thanks. Didn't know that either," said Deborah and went on. "The rest of them, who will try to set to sexy and smart but common-place togs, are ordinary down-to-earth mortals but you will be like a miracle, like a vision, something supernatural compared to them. You'll be a bit fairy-tale-like and above all usual."

"It sounds great," dreamed Cheryl. "I will borrow a theatre costume."

At the end the theatre costume was forgotten because they found a marvellous fabric from which Cheryl had her dress sewn. The fabric was changeable; sometimes it was rather pink, sometimes rather sky-blue, semi-glossy and flowing. There was a hem of white florets along the neckline; the same florets were randomly placed on the lower part of the long skirt. It was ended with a wavy trimming, as well as short, untraditionally cut sleeves. Around her waist Cheryl put two strings of translucent beads and a silver chain; in one point all of these joined and continued in some more strings ended with crystal drops.

"It's – perfect," gasped Cheryl when she saw herself in the mirror for the first time.

"You look like a fairy," cheered Amy who came to assess the result too.

"Or like a bride," Matt hit it. "Add a veil and a bouquet... well at least you won't have to change for the wedding too much."

"Matt, this is the first time you don't talk rubbish," said Amy, viewing Cheryl with her eyes ajar. "Pity I won't be there when the others see you."


	6. Day D

**6 Day D**

On Friday, 15th April, great crowds gathered in front of the gates of Wonka's factory; crowds so large they had to be kept away from the gate by policemen. One by one, the finalists came. When Cheryl arrived in the company of Deborah and Mrs Storm (both on business here) she could see she was the last. She got out of the taxi and immediately caught all attention. Admiring sighs and shouts were coming from the crowd, someone even clapped their hands. Cheryl went nearer to the policemen where she had to show the golden ticket. A policeman nodded and before he let her in, he smiled at her. "You look great. I will keep my fingers crossed for you, beauty." Cheryl beamed at him and stepped into a semi-circle at the gate where her competitors stood. She noticed they showed signs of disconcertion when she came. She looked at them with as much interest as they looked at her with.

Celia Clark was wearing a suit, as expected; her fair wavy hair was tied back in a bun. She was frowning at Cheryl from under her sunglasses. Next to her there was Bea Grammos who set to her Greek origin and curiously enough, managed to have an appearance one could observe without being sick. The reason was a gown reminiscent of robes of antique goddesses and Greek jewellery in her hair and on her arms. On the whole, though, Debbie was right. Even with her long black curly and otherwise very nice hair Bea resembled a pillar of Parthenon. Dawn Fidget looked fantastic – if she could look even better than on TV recently. She was wearing a short black satin dress that appeared more like a slip. She was flinging her blonde hair about, casting reflections from her lipstick and nail-polish and Cheryl wondered she doesn't break a leg on heels high like that. Last one, Tara Norden, was a great surprise. On TV then she looked weary but today she was glowing with energy. She had her hair cut so it looked ragged and untidy but made her visibly younger. She decided not to wear dress, for she didn't feel good in it and instead she chose a narrow-strapped T-shirt with sporty capri jeans. She managed to emphasize her trained figure really well; even Dawn noticed it and was annoyed. She obviously thought she had the game in her hands.

With the strike of ten the fifteen-years-closed gate opened at last and everyone shivered with anxiety. A voice coming from a loud-speaker invited the five lucky women to come in. They didn't hesitate a moment and rushed joyfully forwards. The gate closed behind them and they stood in the courtyard. The voice told them to go on, so they continued to a factory wall which opened all of a sudden and revealed a small stage. The curtain opened and the visitors could watch a merry show in which puppets of confectioners sang a song about Willy Wonka, lavishing with superlatives. Everything went fine until subsequent fireworks set the whole show on fire and crozzled it to coal. They looked around, uncomprehending what that was supposed to be, but at one end of the row, next to Tara, stood a man in a top hat and sunglasses, clapping his hands enthusiastically.

"Magnificent! I think it was getting a bit dodgy in the middle part, but that finale... wow!" Then he climbed on the stage and looked at the comers.

"You are Willy Wonka!" said Bea, recognizing him. The ladies beamed and tried to smile as much as they could.

"Good morning, starshine, the earth says hello!" said Willy Wonka as a greeting. He saw smiling, yet uncomprehending faces, so ho pulled out some flashcards with a bit more normal speech. "Please come in," he called upon the visitors and passed through the debris on the stage. The ladies followed him.

"Don't you want to know our names?" asked Celia.

"Names aren't that important," said Wonka calmly. They came into an empty corridor covered with a red carpet. "There is so much to see, so we'd better hurry."

Dawn decided for an early attack. She stepped up to Wonka and stroked a lapel of his coat and the neck of his shirt. "I'm Dawn Fidget. You look great," she said flatteringly and snuggled up to his shoulder. Wonka backed a few steps, horrified. "Ladies, please," he stammered. He realized he was in a lion's den and taming the lions will be darn difficult. Dawn was getting ready for another charge but somebody grabbed her by the arm.

"Don't overhaste it," said Celia poisonously. "There will be enough time for that when you marry him – or, I mean if you marry him at all," she added derisively. "My name is Celia Clark, you must have heard of me." She held out her hand. Wonka shook hands with her reluctantly.

"I am Bea Grammos," the Greek held out her hand too. Wonka also shook hands with her and hid his utter fright behind a wide grin which Bea interpreted as a sign of favour.

"Tara Norden," said Tara and shook his hand so violently he had to rub it when she let him loose.

"Cheryl Rosebay," said Cheryl and gracefully held out her hand for him to kiss. Wonka paused but didn't spoil it. The four others now looked at Cheryl with unconcealed grudge. Cheryl was in the lead and became their common enemy.

"I just want to say that if any of you wanted to end the tour for any reason and go back home, she can. One of my workers will escort her out," he informed them.

"Why would we do that?" said Tara.

"What are your workers like?" said Dawn curiously.

"All in good time," replied Wonka. "Please, follow me."

"Why are we going to see the factory when we want to get to know you?" asked Celia.

"Because the factory is my life. The factory is me. Who wants to get to know me must get to know my work too." He got to a door at the end of the corridor. "This is the heart of the factory, maybe the most important room of all."

"Why is the door so small?" demanded Bea.

"To keep all the big chocolatey flavour inside," Wonka smiled mysteriously and unlocked. Then he pushed the doors a little; they opened wide and revealed a marvellous valley with a chocolate river at its bottom. It was coming from a waterfall at the other end of the room. They went in and didn't know what to look at first.

"It's unbelievable," sighed Cheryl.

"Beautiful," praised Bea.

"Oh yeah, it's very beautiful. All my rooms are beautiful," said Wonka with pride. He showed them the chocolate river and explained the importance of the waterfall that mixed it. He spoke about pipes which brought the chocolate to all rooms where it was needed. The ladies were silent and listened very carefully. He surely wasn't an ordinary chocolatier. There was something more in him.

"Try some of my grass," he said. "Please do. It's so delectable and darn good looking."

"You can eat the grass?" Tara wondered.

"Everything in this room is eatable. Even I am eatable," said Wonka and tried not to look at Dawn who licked her lips. "But that is called cannibalism and it's in fact frowned upon in most societies," he added. Celia shook her head incredulously.

"Enjoy," he said. The ladies scattered over the valley, tasted the things and didn't stop praising. Cheryl sat down on the grass on a moderate slope near a chocolate tree and nibbled on the grass and branches. She must have made a nice view because she found out Wonka can't take his eyes of her. She waved to him and smiled. "The grass is terrific," she said, "I'd never imagine eating grass."

"Mr Wonka, what's this made of?" Dawn appeared all of a sudden and held out her hands with some candy in them. When he was examining it, she cast Cheryl a resentful look.

"This is strawberry jelly and marshmallow," explained Wonka. "Don't you think it's a great combination?"

"Excellent," laughed Dawn, staring at him.

"What is it there?" said Cheryl suddenly. "Something is moving there, a little person!" All of them looked the way she was pointing. "There are more of them! What are they?"

"These are my workers, the Oompa-Loompas," informed Wonka. "Imported directly from Loompaland."

"Loompaland?"

"You don't know it? It's a terrible country, and very dangerous too. I visited it during one of my journeys around the world -"

"You are a traveller!" exclaimed Tara. "An adventurer! We have a lot in common," she smiled at him. Wonka glanced at her and went on. He told them about the discovery of the Oompa-Loompa tribe and how he made an agreement with them. They would work in his factory in exchange for cocoa beans which they desired and which he had plenty of. Cocoa beans were their favourite food. They acclaimed to move to the factory and now they live here quite happily.

"They are your employees. How do you take care of them?" said Celia who was among others a president of a civil rights protection movement. "Do they have a trade union at all?"

"Trade union?" said Wonka, astonished. "What for? They've got everything they think of."

"But... but nobody knows about it! Nobody monitors the situation here!"

"And why should they?" said Wonka curtly. This woman didn't appeal to him at all.

"This is not right," murmured Celia.

"What is not right?" Tara snapped at her. "That people can agree on things? I admire you," she turned to Wonka, who smiled. "Ok, shall we continue?" he said.


	7. Wonka’s Inventions

**7 Wonka's Inventions**

He pointed at the chocolate river. They saw a ship coming from a crook. It was great and bright pink, its bows shaped into a sea-horse head. About fifty tiny Oompa-Loompas sat at the oars and one set the pace.

"On the board," said Wonka to a crowd gathered by the river. Hadn't Wonka waited and got in the ship first, there might have been a struggle for the place next to him. Not wanting to have the ship turned over he gave way to the women. The ladies were strangely enough giving way to each other too and jostled.

"What is it?" said Cheryl and went aboard calmly. Immediately Bea settled next to her with Tara and Celia behind. Dawn sat behind them and beckoned to Wonka. "I prefer sitting here," he said, took a seat on a bench at the rear of the boat and thought it was done.

"It's no problem, I can climb over to you easily," said Dawn briskly and sat next to him. The rest of them were furious. They were keeping an eye on Cheryl for so long that now Dawn took the lead. It was a ruthless encounter. "You are right, the view's much better from here," said Dawn and put her hand on Wonka's knee.

"Onwards!" he commanded and removed the hand. "Quickly!" The Oompa-Loompas pulled hard so the river started to run fast under the boat. Bea took a pleasure in the beautiful scenery and unawares she dipped her hand into the chocolate river.

"No!" exclaimed Wonka, because he saw it, but also because Dawn was pawing his knee again. "You mustn't do that! My chocolate mustn't be touched by human hands!"

"Sorry," said Bea and frowned at Dawn. "I didn't know that. But is tastes very good," she said, sucking her fingers.

"And you mustn't be touched by human hands either?" complained Dawn quietly when he pushed her hand aside again.

"I wonder you've got the nerve," he scowled. "Are you women all like that? One can't make head or tail of you."

"Yes, all of them say so," Dawn nodded. "A woman must have her secrets," she smiled and Wonka felt his blood freeze in his veins. Suddenly it occurred to him that the idea with the ship was the worst in his whole life. He felt like a mouse held by a cat, which is just about to bite off the mouse's head. At least Dawn looked like it now.

"There's a tunnel ahead of us!" cried Cheryl.

"Full speed ahead," commanded Wonka. The Oompa-Loompas rowed as much as they could. Moreover, the river came to a sharp fall; the ship practically flew and pitched from side to side.

"Switch on the lights!" They heard a desperate cry and looked round. Lights lit up along the river so they could see they were floating in a riverbed branching to all sides. They also saw Dawn draw away and Wonka, wiping a shiny lipstick off his face.

"Now you dare too much, dollish," spat Bea. "Let me on her!" She shook her fist at Dawn but she was sitting at the very front and had fat chance to get to her. Dawn knew it and sneered at her with her eyes.

"Calm down, you two," said Cheryl. "You are acting as some rotten kids."

"You nearly keeled the boat over," reproached Celia.

"Wait till we're on the bank," muttered Bea. Dawn wasn't attracted by the idea of being grinded by a quintal thrasher with a southern nature so she sat still.

"Do these Oompa-Loompas know where we are going at all?" Tara wanted to know.

"No, no-one's knowing where they're going!" said Wonka in a sing-song voice. "Ladies, please, notice the very important rooms we're just passing by." He pointed at the doors along the river. ALL KINDS OF CREAMS: CLOTTED CREAM, COFFEE CREAM AND COMPLEXION CREAM, one of the doors read.

"You have a complexion cream here too?" Celia livened up. "I didn't know you need to use complexion cream with making chocolate!"

"I don't," smiled Wonka. "Complexion cream is for softening the complexion," he said and stroked his chin. "I thought you would know it." Celia turned to the front, lips pressed tightly and white with rage.

"And you haven't seen my sticky lipstick and hair toffee yet," exclaimed Wonka happily.

"What is sticky lipstick good for?" asked Bea.

"I'd love to show you," said Wonka, "but we don't have time for that! It's a special gluey stuff that sticks your lips together. It's useful for talkative women." He looked at Dawn with an ominous grimace.

"What happens if you kiss somebody wearing that lipstick?" said Dawn, trying to look innocent. Wonka didn't answer, just blinked in surprise and then very quickly fixed his eyes in the opposite direction.

STORAGE OF ALL BEANS: COCOA BEANS, COFFEE BEANS, JELLY BEANS, HARICOT BEANS AND SOYA BEANS.

"This is mad," thought Tara. "How can you have these things together?"

"Very easily, the storage is big enough," replied Wonka.

INTRIGUING ICE-CREAMS, they read a few doors on. "I'd love to have an ice-cream, it's so hot here," said Dawn, fanning.

"We can't go in there, we would freeze," said Wonka plainly. "It's a very peculiar room; no one has ever stepped inside. It's so deadly cold there that everybody freezes instantly."

Cheryl laughed. "Who's making it then?"

"That's very intriguing, isn't it?" beamed Wonka and the ladies shook their heads unanimously.

They were just passing by another door. LICKABLE WALLPAPERS, EDIBLE NEWSPAPERS AND TOILET PAPERS.

"What is this supposed to be?" said Bea in disbelief.

"Very practical things," said Wonka. "The wallpapers are for children's rooms. There are pictures of fruit that really taste like the fruit. As for the newspapers, imagine this: everyday you buy newspaper and after reading it you throw it away. That is quite a wasting, isn't it? But these newspapers can be eaten after reading. I make them in various flavours."

"And what about the toilet paper?" said Tara.

"Toilet papers as well."

"But why would anyone want anything like that? What is it good for?" demanded Tara.

"You don't know what toilet paper is good for? It's the kind of paper you use after using the toilet of course," explained Wonka.

"Oh I know that," said Tara irately, "but why edible?"

"And why not?" said Wonka as a matter of fact. Cheryl laughed so hard she clutched her sides. This factory was really a treat.

"Everything is so senseless here," Celia sighed and reached for her ringing mobile phone to her handbag. They passed a few other rooms; the ship swung again, added speed and slowed down again a bit later.

"What... There isn't even a signal here! Where the heck are we?" she yapped at Wonka. "It broke in the middle of a very important call!" Wonka said nothing but only smiled roguishly. It didn't last him for long though.

"You are so charming," Dawn whispered to his ear. She apparently had forgotten about Bea's threats. This time the hand didn't stay on the knee but moved upwards.

"Stop the boat!" roared Wonka and grabbed the intrusive blonde by the wrist before anything worse happened. The others turned back and began swearing at Dawn again; meanwhile Wonka jumped out of the boat and opened a plain door leading to a corridor. Tara, Celia and Cheryl followed. He strode quite fast and didn't care about anything that was happening behind, so he couldn't see how Bea fulfilled her promise. She caught Dawn under the neck and pushed her against the wall.

"Who do you think you are, you slut?" she snorted to Dawn's face. Dawn tried to scream but it was impossible. She waved her arms madly so she scratched Bea's forearms. Bea gave a Greek swear and Cheryl glanced back. She cried, sprang to them and tried to pull Bea away while the rest of the group was on their way back. Cheryl pounded away at her until Bea left her hold of Dawn at last. Dawn fell on the floor and gasped for breath.

"You nearly strangled me," wheezed the blonde.

"Serves you right," snapped Bea. "You clawed my arms in turn."

"Ladies, if you don't mind," said Wonka in an unruffled tone, "may we go on?" and set off, Bea at his heels. She felt she deserved a bit of gratefulness from him, when she taught Dawn a lesson and couldn't understand him staying so cold. She thought something had to be done about it. Meanwhile Dawn stood up; groaning and tottering she tried to keep up with the group. They passed a few doors, turned left twice and stood in front of a room called SOUR FACES.

"We've just had enough of these," said Cheryl, reading the title.

"I want to show you them anyway," said Wonka and unlocked the door. They found themselves in a room with long conveyor-belts. On them they could see little round-shaped hard candies and Oompa-Loompas in green overalls were busy painting faces on them. All candies were smiling happily.

"So these are supposed to be sour faces?" said Celia as sourly as possible.

"Try one and you'll see," said Wonka. Celia took one. Wonka beckoned to the others too, his eyes sparkling mischievously. The ladies stood by the conveyor-belts and each of them had a candy.

"It's sweet," mumbled Dawn confusedly. The others nodded in agreement. For a while they shook their heads but one after another popped their eyes and twisted their mouths into the most impossible grimaces. The taste changed rapidly and the candy tasted like vinegar.

"Eeeeew," said Tara and spat the candy out. The others followed suit. Wonka was laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes and he had to hold to a table not to fall. The Oompa-Loompas rolled with laughter too and the visitors felt like ninnies.

"Wow, they were worth it," Wonka gasped for breath. "Do you get it? Offer them to someone you want to surprise. They look so sweet that everybody tries. And then – bang! And you can't stop laughing!"

"Thank you very much for the demonstration," said Celia narkily and frowned upon the Oompa-Loompas who just got up from the floor and returned to their work, sneering at them now and then. Whether Wonka takes care of his employees or exploits them, she couldn't care less now. She'd rather wish them the latter.

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience to you," cackled Wonka and hurried along the corridor. They turned left, then right and then they came to a staircase. "C'mon, hurry up, we don't have time! Slide down the banister!" said Wonka and glided a very long banister at the end of which he jumped down gracefully.

"I can't do it, I've never done it," moaned Celia. Tara pushed her aside. "There's nothing in it," she laughed and swimmingly slid down where Wonka caught her. Cheryl came second. "Yippeee," she shouted when she was sliding past Celia who decided to walk in the end. When Cheryl got to the end, she staggered a bit but Wonka caught her and helped her straighten up. She smiled at him and for a second they were looking at each other. "Look out, Bea's coming!" roared Tara and pushed them both out of the way just in time. There was no one to catch Bea so she made a pancake landing.

"I'm coming, madam," Wonka hurried to help her too. By the time Bea stood up Dawn was on the way too, her dress gathering at places where it shouldn't, so Dawn had to take three attempts to slide the banister.

"You didn't save much time, as I can see," said Celia who arrived at the moment.

"It was much more fun though," said Wonka and ignored Dawn who was imitating a fall. She could see he is not coming to help her, so she groaned, "I think my ankle is twisted."

"If you can't do it, then don't, you dunderhead," said Bea and with one sharp tug she made her stand up. Dawn scowled like thunder at her.

"We will continue in an elevator," said Wonka. There was an ordinary rush about places next to him. Although the car was big, it sufficed only just, because Bea occupied a place big enough for two. Wonka was quite glad Tara and Cheryl stood next to him; Dawn was squeezed in the opposite corner.

"Are there so many floors here?" asked Cheryl, looking at the car. There were buttons over the whole one wall.

"Oh no," said Wonka. "This is not an ordinary up and down elevator, but it can go sideways, slantways and every other way you can think of." He pressed one of the buttons and the elevator began moving – sideways and abruptly up slantways. It kept changing the direction and had there not been so many people they would have been probably rolling over the floor.

"The walls are of glass," noticed Bea. "Oh, I hate glass elevators!" she groaned.

"It's like a roller coaster," said Cheryl enthusiastically. "We can see out!"

"Exactly," howled Bea. "I think I'm going to be sick!" There was a loud objection from everyone. Luckily the elevator stopped in time and everybody rushed out. They were in front of a room called STARS IN THEIR PIES.

"Now this is more likeable," said Celia. "I love pies, especially apple ones." The group entered a room which resembled a scientific observatory with the ceiling in shape of a dome. In the middle there was a huge machine resembling a telescope. Oompa-Loompas in snow-white overalls bustled to and fro and prepared the pies. The ready ones were piled up along the wall.

"It's a pity that you can't see the work at night," said Wonka. "That's when the main phase takes place. Now the pies are being prepared, but, as you can see, they are quite plain. At night we open the dome and this telescope which is pointed towards the Milky Way fills the pies with stars."

"What a nonsense," said Dawn suddenly. Wonka took offence. "Everybody knows that the most stars of the entire sky can be found in the Milky Way. Or do you think otherwise? Besides, Milky Way gives my pies their unique universal milky quality."

"What do you do when it's cloudy?" asked Cheryl. Wonka turned and gave her a wide smile. "Good question. Of course the process has to be stopped for some time. We still can't control the weather, I'm afraid. But I hope it's just a matter of time. Come, I want to show you so many more things."


	8. The Beginning of the End

**8 The Beginning of the End**

They returned to the elevator but Bea made a protest. Wonka subsequently agreed on walking but looked cross. He stopped in front of a room called GUMDROP SNAKES. He hesitated for a while but decided to go on.

"What's inside?" asked Cheryl.

"Gumdrop snakes, obviously. I remembered though some women are afraid of snakes so we'll better go somewhere else."

"Who would be afraid of gumdrop snakes?" wondered Tara.

"It's my new invention," smiled Wonka dreamily. "You can't tell them from real ones except that they taste good. Moreover, they are so lively that you sometimes have a hard work eating them and they even squirm in your stomach."

Dawn and Celia turned green in the face and pressed their hands to their mouths. "I thought this was a chocolate factory, and still all the time we meet something odd and disgusting," said Tara fiercely. "I don't think I will buy Erik anything from you from now on."

"I am sorry about that," said Wonka calmly. "But you may like this," he turned round the corner and pointed at a door. They read, YOGHURT CULTURES.

"We'll see," said Tara doubtfully. "One never knows here." Wonka unlocked the door and they marched to a varicoloured room. There was a complete silence and not an Oompa-Loompa in sight; only to the left and to the right there were long tables with many boxes. In the middle there was an empty space with some chairs.

"A normal room at last," said Celia contently. Wonka stepped to one of the boxes and opened it. All the ladies gathered round.

"In these boxes yoghurts mature," he said and pulled out one of the glasses that were inside. He unscrewed the lid and showed them white slurry stuff which reached barely to half of the glass.

"Why is there so little of it?" said Dawn.

"I'd love to have a yoghurt like nothing else," said Tara. She wasn't much into sweets as she preferred a healthy lifestyle. "Are they ready?"

"Almost. Basically they are. There is only one more procedure ad they'll be done."

"Can I try?" said Tara and took the glass from Wonka.

"I don't know, I'd better not..." he hesitated.

"But you said they are almost ready," said Dawn pointedly. She couldn't forgive him that he kept on disregarding her on purpose. No other man treated her this way, and she had many in her pocket so far.

"She is right of course," said Celia. "It's not gumdrop snakes." This convinced Tara and she tossed the glass off. The yoghurt was almost liquid and very good.

"Well, I must say you did it this time," she praised Wonka. She didn't understand the odd expression on his face. Suddenly they heard a great clock strike an hour and something began going on. About thirty or forty Oompa-Loompas marched into the room, all of them in tail-coats and carrying musical instruments. They took their seats and began to play Beethoven under the conductor's lead. Wonka smiled and in a whisper he explained to his uncomprehending visitors, "This is the last part I spoke of. The yoghurts need some culture to mature properly and be of further use. Today Beethoven, Ravel, Liszt and Mozart are on," he read from the schedule by the door. "Let's sit down, shall we?" The ladies sat on the remaining chairs and listened to the concert. When the band started to play the Turkish march, Tara began to stir on her chair. She turned pale, then red again and sweaty drops began to appear on her forehead.

"What's happening to you?" said Celia, noticing there is something wrong. Everyone looked at her.

"I feel sick," whispered Tara and squeezed her stomach. "What the hell was in it?" Wonka brought another glass, opened it and showed them. The glass was full of nice creamy yoghurt.

"Now it's ready, see?" Wonka smiled. "Try some!" he offered. All of them jerked away so he had some himself. "Excellent," he assessed, shut the glass and put it back to the box.

Tara was white in the face and moaning: "I must go... where do you have here -" Wonka snapped his fingers and called an Oompa-Loompa, who took Tara away.

"There is no point in waiting for her here," said Wonka and headed to the exit. "These unripe yoghurts completely devastated some of my Oompa-Loompas before I found out what was wrong."

"Couldn't you tell us before?" snapped Celia.

"He told her not to eat it," said Cheryl. "Didn't you hear?"

"Being clever now, missy?" nagged Bea.

"After you," Wonka opened the door and cut the quarrel that was about to begin. The women went out and Wonka locked again.

"Will she be OK?" Cheryl wondered.

"Sure, but not until tomorrow by this time," said Wonka happily and made for the elevator.

"I told you I don't want to go by that thing!" cried Bea.

"We don't have so much time," replied Wonka.

"You had time for the concert, that's interesting," Dawn remarked.

"Didn't you like it? I know what," he turned to Bea, smiling. "You can choose a room yourself." They got in; Bea hesitated for a while before she smiled and pressed a button labelled, "GLAZED ICE CANDIES". "I'm interested in this, I am sure we don't have it in my country."

The elevator travelling became quite pleasant for her eventually, because in one turning she failed to catch the balance and fell down on Wonka. She squeezed him to the wall with her remarkable breasts and in that moment Wonka's proximity roused her hot southern blood. She pressed herself to him even more and hugged him so they could hear his bones crack. Wonka, frozen by terror and pain was unable to give a sound, so the others had to come to help otherwise Bea would surely choke him. Cheryl caught her by one arm, Dawn took the other. Dawn was pale at the thought how Wonka had to feel – she had experienced Bea's steel grip herself. Both of them jerked and Bea felt some tickling. She waved both her arms casually and Cheryl and Dawn were in one heap on the floor in the opposite corner of the elevator. They stood up at once, checking on their hair and gowns. Cheryl sighed with relief at finding nothing has torn; Dawn, on the other hand, was incomprehensibly vexed for the same reason. Celia decided not to take part in the brawl, that was beneath her dignity, and with despise she eyed Bea, who had just decided to check whether Wonka has got everything a man should have, in the right place.

"Leave him alone, for God's sake," said Celia to Bea, but she didn't take notice, only snorted contently. Wonka begged for help with his eyes, mortified with terror. Dawn suddenly went red with fury, screamed like an Indian warrior and bit into Bea's shoulder. It helped. Instead of Wonka, Bea turned her attention to Dawn. Surely it wouldn't have ended nicely, if the elevator hadn't stopped.

"We're here," remarked Cheryl when the doors opened and Bea still showed some interest in strangling Dawn. She pushed them both out; meanwhile Celia turned to Wonka, who was still standing in the corner, stock-still and bug-eyed.

"Are you all right?" she said and took his arm to lead him out. Wonka jerked when she touched him, like hit by electricity. He gave her a startled look and shot out of the elevator. It seemed he would prefer to give it a deep six and run to hide in some small, dark room where he could be alone. He couldn't do that, obviously, so he tried to recover and remember what his task was.

In front of their target room there were some coats. "Put these on, there's great cold in there," warned Wonka and put on a long black overcoat.

"It will cool you down a bit, hopefully," said Celia to Bea.

"Are these the intriguing ices of yours?" worried Dawn, putting on a fur-coat.

"Oh no, not so much of cold there. But you would freeze in this dress anyway, you can take that to the bank," he assured her and opened the door. "Come quickly!" They ran inside. Cheryl wondered where the sharp wind was coming from, but she understood soon. They were standing on a raised place and below them a great fanner blew snow and ice in the room. It was like a real snowstorm. Icy crystals glittering on the light blue walls even increased the feeling of coldness. They could see conveyor-belts running slowly all over the room, carrying small cubes.

"Be careful," Wonka warned them. "It's icy everywhere. Better hold the rail." All of them obeyed. "Can you see the little chocolate pieces? They must be put into severe cold due to the icing on top of them, to make them freeze through," he tried to howl down the roar of the fanner.

"Why don't you put them in the freezer instead?" Celia asked.

"Because only in this room they can become Glazed Ice Candies," Wonka explained like that one plus one is two. "Otherwise they would be only ordinary frozen chocolate and that's what we don't want, do we?" Celia muffled in her coat and didn't speak a word.

"How do they taste?" Bea was interested. "I've never eaten any of these."

"Really? They are delicious," Wonka said cautiously, remembering the elevator event. "These are most likely ready; they look thoroughly frozen." Bea cheered and reached out to a nearby conveyor-belt. Dawn also couldn't forget certain things easily, so she inconspicuously prodded her. Bea slipped and with a shriek she skinned down and fell on the conveyor-belt among the candies, right in front of the fanner. Wonka ran his hand over his eyes, seeing the cubes scattered into all directions. When Bea tried to pick up and climb back up, the strong wind blew away her coat, which she hadn't done up for some reason. Cheryl started; made two steps to Bea and nearly fell down too, but Wonka caught her.

"My goodness, watch out! I told you to be careful about the glaze." Bea was screaming but they were unable to do anything for her.

"We have to wait until the shift is over," said Wonka. "The fanner will be turned off then and the candies taken out. Luckily, it will be in five minutes," he glanced at his watch. "We'll wait outside." They went to the corridor, round the room and stood at a door at the other side, where the most hardened Oompa-Loompas wrapped in caps and scarves came to pile the candy into boxes and brought a new batch. Wonka informed one of the Oompa-Loompas who crossed his arms in an agreement and in a while they appeared again, pulling a trolley with Bea on it. She was completely stiff and blue with cold. The Oompa-Loompas stood her on the floor and continued in their work. Cheryl touched her and flinched. She was really cold as ice.

"What to do about her?" she wondered.

"She makes a nice antique statue," Dawn smirked. Wonka laughed shortly but reassured them, "We simply have to let her melt. She wasn't there long; she will be fine in a couple of hours."

"A couple of hours?"

"Yes, my glazed ice candies can keep frozen for a very long time. It is right because of the process we have just seen," he said happily.

"Why don't you put her to some warm place? She would melt sooner," said Celia. Wonka didn't rejoice much at the suggestion.

"I wouldn't risk it," he said seriously. "Too sudden changes of temperature might be harmful to the organism. We'll leave her here." He whispered something to an Oompa-Loompa and then they continued on.


	9. The Great Finale

**9 The Great Finale**

They got into the elevator once again. Without Tara and Bea breathing was easier. Wonka invited the three remaining ladies to choose a room which they wished to see.

"I'm interested in these Snowy Sweetkies," said Cheryl, pointing at one of the buttons. Wonka suddenly looked embarrassed. "Perhaps some other time, if you don't mind," he smiled nervously and sank his eyes.

"Enough of cold," muttered Dawn.

"Have you got truffles here?" asked Celia, examining the button panel. "I love truffles above all, except apple pies, of course."

"Of course we have truffles," Wonka looked at her with a far-away expression and pressed the relevant button. The elevator flew as a flash and they were in place in no time.

They found themselves in a lovely countryside that resembled the Chocolate Room a bit. There was no river though, only a slightly undulating ground wooded with large trees. At a distance they saw some kind of a farm building with stables.

"Is this the room?" the ladies wondered.

"Oh yes," said Wonka. "Here we grow the most delicious truffles of the finest quality."

"I do beg your pardon?" Celia thought she misunderstood. "Did you say you grow truffles?"

"Yes, you heard right. Everybody knows that truffles grow under the ground, preferably under oak trees. All these trees you can see are the best oak trees from France; that's where truffles come from."

"I think you don't quite understand me," said Celia. "I mean chocolate truffles, not the mushrooms."

"I also mean chocolate truffles, lady," said Wonka, injured by the remark. He apparently couldn't understand that somebody can be so thick-headed. "Oh look – we came just in season," he beamed and pointed towards the house from which some Oompa-Loompas went, carrying some sort of leading-reins. "You are lucky; we reap truffles just once a week."

"What are the harnesses for?" asked Dawn. Wonka gave a giggle.

"For the pigs, naturally!" The ladies goggled at him. "Yes, pigs. Wild boars have the best nose for finding truffles; they can smell them out. Watch!" he cried excitedly and pointed to the farmhouse. Some Oompa-Loompas were harnessing a large wild boar. One of the Oompa-Loompas mounted it afterwards. Another gave the pig a truffle from last harvest to take a sniff of and then he spanked the pig over the rump. It darted through open gates and began to run about among the trees. The Oompa-Loompas sent two more pigs and went to get ready the digging machine.

The first pig joyfully squealed at a nearby tree and the Oompa-Loompas brought the digging machine closer. They dug out a big piece of land and dropped it into a sieve which began to shake and sieve the soil. The dirt fell back to the pit and the Oompa-Loompas threw the found truffles into a vat to wash them from the dirt. The ladies noticed that before the sieving the Oompa-Loompas put very small new seedlings of truffles in the pit. The soil was watered then, fertilized and covered by lawn again.

Wonka came nearer and becked the ladies to follow.

The Oompa-Loompas waved to greet them. Wonka took a truffle out of the vat, sniffed, nodded contently and handed it to Celia.

"Is it safe to eat?" she worried because she saw the end of their two other colleagues.

"Don't worry, try it," said Wonka and to prove its harmlessness he took one himself. Celia then tried one too and lit up. "It's impossible," she enthused. "How did you manage? They are excellent!" Wonka smiled.

"Thank you. Would you like to try to find some yourself?" Dawn laughed because she understood it in some other way but Wonka took no notice of her. He called an Oompa-Loompa with a pig and handed the leading-reins to Celia. "It will find its way, you just follow, 'kay? Everything you find is yours, I promise." He seemed to be happy that Celia appreciated his work at last.

"But I can't do that," said Celia embarrassedly.

"Of course you can," Wonka assured her. "Please, just hold it firmly and don't let it go. These pigs are very difficult to catch, that's why I always want Oompa-Loompas to ride them. You can see how large this field is." He was right, the field stretched to horizon.

The pig was impatient and ran to and fro. As soon as Celia took hold of the leading-reins, it started off and headed for the opposite side of the field. Celia didn't expect that it will be like walking the dog, but neither expected what followed. She couldn't keep up with it because of her high heels and tight skirt. The pig felt resistance it wasn't used to and gave a tug. Once, twice – and Celia realized she was being towed after it. She gave a shriek but curiously enough she didn't let go of the leading-reins. The pig headed at full speed towards a pit the Oompa-Loompas dug a while before. Right in front of the pit the pig made a sharp turn; the leading-reins snapped in half and Celia disappeared in the pit. Before the others ran to her, she was covered with dirt from the sieve above her. The pig had run away and was nowhere to be seen.

"I told you not to let it go," cried Wonka crossly to the pit. Celia mumbled something and spat out the dirt; at the moment she received a shower of water and fertilizer.

"I didn't let it go, the reins snapped in half," she said infuriately when she managed to stand up in the pit and wipe some of the mud off her face. Dawn laughed like a mad. "Look at me!" fumed Celia. "My best suit! I hope you will at least pay me for the drycleaner!" she shouted at Wonka and tried to climb out of the pit.

"More than that, dear lady," said Wonka and offered her his hand courteously so she could climb out. He turned to an Oompa-Loompa, saying, "You will take Mrs Clark to the drycleaner, 'kay?"

"Drycleaner? Now?" said Celia.

"You can't continue like that, now can you?" wondered Wonka. Celia viewed the situation and realized her chances were dropping rapidly. Although, she wasn't going to give up easily.

"I will," she said stubbornly and wiped some of the mud with grass.

"You can't," Wonka shook his head, "you would spread the mud all over the factory. This Oompa-Loompa will accompany you. Make yourself comfortable in the drycleaner." He waved to Celia as the Oompa-Loompa grabbed her by the skirt and pulled her away. The tiny man was apparently unable to stand the terrible look and with his other hand he held his nose.

"And we will move on, okay?" smiled Wonka at his two last companions and went out of the room. "Where is it now?" he asked when they were back in the elevator. Both women thought carefully of an unharmful place but it was just like guessing in a lottery.

At last Cheryl said: "What would you recommend to us?"

"Oh, plenty of rooms," Wonka began to point, "let's say Fudge mountain or Caramel lake, Top milk waterfall, Fruit press..."

Dawn envisioned herself being pressed in a fruit press, so she quickly said, "What about the Top milk waterfall?" She assumed they had seen one waterfall already and survived. Wonka told her it was an excellent choice and the elevator began moving. Not having Bea around, Dawn didn't try to hold the balance (considering her stiletto heels it wasn't an easy thing to do) and kept on falling on Wonka, giggling stupidly. Cheryl eyed her with utmost disgust. Wonka was getting into it and jerked less and less when Dawn happened to touch him. Anyway, he was happy when they got out.

The Top milk waterfall belonged to the most splendid rooms in the factory, as they were told. It was true: out of everything they saw that day this room was the most romantic place of all. Dawn was delighted because it was her idea to come here.

They admired a beautiful white waterfall which was coming from several metres height, falling across rocks and forming a huge lake beneath out of which another river flew. Below they could see rolling hills of green grass with many-coloured flowers. The rock next to the waterfall was overgrown with bushes carrying red and yellow berries.

"Is everything here also eatable?" asked Cheryl.

"Not everything," smiled Wonka, "but quite a lot of things. For instance those bushes, the grass down there – well, everything except the rock."

They stood on an arched bridge leading from one side of the room to the other approximately in the middle of the waterfall. "Long time ago it came to me that I could make use of gravity. Every drop of this waterfall is top milk and by its falling butter is made."

He showed them the lake. They could see a few rafts with Oompa-Loompas in violet overalls.

"What are they doing there?" asked Cheryl.

"Are they fishing?" said Dawn, seeing something like fishing-nets.

Wonka gave a short laugh. "Oh no. Not for fish at least, but for pats of butter that are produced by the waterfall. Then the pats are washed on the shore, made into bigger lumps and taken away for further processing. Out of this butter the finest fillings and creams are made," he said dreamily. Dawn noticed he licked his lips.

"Everything is so amazing," Cheryl breathed out.

"It is," said Dawn quickly. "Tell me, how did you do it all?" she waggled her hips and went nearer to him.

"Many years of hard work," said Wonka and looked for an escape way. "You wouldn't believe how difficult is to make such a shrub," he pointed at the growth at the rock.

"What are the berries made of?" said Cheryl, mainly to distract Dawn. Dawn seemed to stop to sense the surroundings; she was apparently overwhelmed by the romantic atmosphere of the place. As Wonka stepped back from the bridge, she proceeded to him slowly and unstoppably like a wild beast sure of its prey. Cheryl made a few steps to them but halted.

"These berries," grinned Wonka, "are filled with the most delicious butter cream made from this waterfall. That's why they are right here," he said when he reached the rocky hedge.

"You are fond of them, aren't you?" said Dawn in a seductive voice. She didn't wait for answer, reached out and picked a berry. She faced Wonka who couldn't go any further and held the berry in front of his mouth. "Eat it," she smiled at him. He did so then. He ate another and thought frantically how to get out of this mess. Cheryl stood on the bridge and watched in disbelief how far some women are willing to go. Something told her not to intervene, so she only observed the situation.

Dawn looked round to reach for a third berry. "We'll eat this one together, shall we?" she whispered, her face a few inches from his. Wonka pressed his lips tightly and shook his head resolutely. Cheryl cleared her throat. Dawn looked round again. Oh, she's still here. You are out of luck, girl, he'll be mine, she thought. She ate the berry herself. It was really good.

"I... I prefer the yellow ones," said Wonka with a constrained grin. Yellow-berried bushes grew a bit farther and there was a chance she might let him go.

"All right, a yellow one then," she agreed, "but this time together, okay?" insisted Dawn and didn't budge an inch from him until he nodded. Dawn gave a high jingly laugh and cast Cheryl a winning glance. The other girl was still at the edge of the bridge, not knowing what to think. Dawn reached for a yellow berry but instead of watching her steps, she eyed Cheryl with a sneer. No wonder she slipped on the grass. Dawn gave a yelp and balanced for a moment. Had she had casual shoes, she might have managed the situation but the stiletto heels betrayed her. In a second she fell with a terrible cry down the waterfall and splashed into the lake. Wonka and Cheryl ran up the bridge and tried to catch a glimpse of her.

"Help me!" they heard her call.

"Oh, she's alive," Cheryl was relieved. "The rock looks dangerous."

Wonka suddenly began to laugh madly. It must have been due to overstress he had just experienced. Cheryl watched the Oompa-Loompas pulling Dawn out of the milky lake with a net. She looked up at them. Cheryl couldn't forbear waving at her. She noticed Wonka is waving too and burst into laughter as well.

"You are the last here?" he noticed suddenly with astonishment.

"Well, yes," she smiled nervously and felt everything is going right. Wonka beamed. "You are the winner then! Oh, I'm so delighted! I thought it would be you, from the very beginning!" All of a sudden he startled and didn't know how to continue.

"Er -" There was a short silence. Wonka reached into his pocket, took out some cards and shuffled through them.

"I feel you are the only one who understood the spirit of my factory. I would be extremely happy if you wished to become my wife," he read and looked at her. Cheryl was cracking up, covering her mouth with her hand.

"I'd love to marry you," she said sincerely. Wonka grinned too and offered her his arm.

"Yet you haven't chosen a room where you want to look," he told her when they were walking to the elevator together.

"Oh yes, I have, just remember," said Cheryl. "Snowy Sweetkies."

"You're still interested in that?" Wonka got nervous.

"Increasingly," laughed Cheryl.

"OK then." Wonka pressed the button and stared at her with bright eyes all the way.

In the room Cheryl was curious about was not cold at all, rather the opposite. Heat was coming from ovens where the Sweetkies were baked, but in spite of that snow was falling from the ceiling and made snowdrifts. Cheryl found out it is powdered sugar. Oompa-Loompas shovelled it to a large vat where a great mixer made the Snowy Sweetkies mixture. A step further some Oompa-Loompas formed it into the candy and made snowmen.

"This is the only snow they don't mind," explained Wonka. "I'd never say they enjoy playing in snow so much."

"None of your rooms is ordinary," said Cheryl with admiration. "Each one of them is a work of art. I bet here you make the best Sweetkies in the world."

"You are completely right," beamed Wonka. "I just wanted to say so."

"I wonder if I could have one."

"Of course you could," said Wonka; he paused for a second, then bent to her and kissed her tenderly on the lips. They embraced each other round the waist. When the Oompa-Loompas noticed them, they began to exult, jump and cheer. Wonka straightened again, turned to them and said,

"Let me introduce you my wife-to-be, Cheryl. Be nice to her, obey her and treat her with respect just like she will treat you." The Oompa-Loompas began to clap their hands again. "I will tour her over the entire factory step by step, so all of you will get to know her." Cheryl waved to them and felt like Princess Diana standing next to Charles on the palace balcony on their wedding day. Now she remembered – for the first time since the beginning of the tour – that there is still another world out there, but it was as distant as from a different galaxy. Her world and home was here now.

So Cheryl Rosebay became Mrs Wonka. Everything had been set beforehand, so they could marry the very same day in the afternoon. By doing so, Cheryl outran even Amy. Things settled between Amy and Rick and they married the following week. Four unsuccessful women returned home with a load of sweets, as they were promised, and didn't speak much of the way how they made their mark in the factory. Cheryl gave up the job in the library, but she didn't have to resign to her work. Willy Wonka fixed her a private library with a database which was opened twice a week. Cheryl lent books to the Oompa-Loompas and this way she enhanced their culture. The Oompa-Loompas became friends to her and later also to her children. And in Willy Wonka Cheryl found the best husband she could ever wish for.


End file.
